


Hand It Over

by crimeglitter



Category: Naoki Urasawa’s Monster
Genre: M/M, Post Ruhenheim, we’re gonna fix the problems
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 08:08:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17762993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimeglitter/pseuds/crimeglitter





	Hand It Over

Blizzard reports had news rooms scrambling, with footage of cars and sidewalks buried under inches of snow. Weather updates could be heard from patient room televisions, or inside nurse break rooms.

Tenma had begrudingly abandoned his car at the hospital garage. The chances of coaxing it along even a bit of the buried street was nil, so he grabbed a scarf from the back seat. Any vehicle documents containing his information were folded and tucked neatly into the pockets of his coat. After a minute, he locked the doors and ventured into the cold. 

His new apartment rested twenty blocks from hospital grounds; ordinarily a painless stroll, but the foot of snow made walking difficult, and blistering wind clawed at his cheeks. Daylight was rapidly fading by the time he was fumbling for keys at the door, his fingertips numb from the cold. 

Finally making it into his apartment, he sighed in relief, and peeled off wet socks before flicking on the bathroom lights. This flat was an upgrade to the last in Frankfurt, and he had barely any time to move in over the last week. Pulling doubles at Eisler Memorial was almost a regular occurance now, especially with everyone calling out. Nina and Dieter had been nice enough to help him unpack some of the boxes yesterday. He nearly tripped over a few scattered at the foot of the stairs coming in.  


Shower, then bed. It had been a long day.  
The amount of injuries due to accidents both on and off the road in the last week had skyrocketed, leaving him with no time for lunch breaks most days. Burrowing into the warm covers was the kindest thing he had done for his aching body in the last thirty six hours. The snow was still falling outside, soft against his window. Drowning out the noise, blanketing every surface in white, as if the world had quietly decided to start over from scratch. He closed his eyes and gradually fell asleep upon pondering the very idea. 

 

Something broke the silence. His eyes snapped open. The blizzard was still tossing snow outside the window, harder now than before. Tenma rolled over the sheets to squint at the alarm clock. 

2:36 A.M.

The distinct sound of knocking downstairs startled him from sleep. Someone was at the door. 

The doctor grieved as he was forced to leave the pleasant warmth of blankets, and press toes onto cold hardwood. 

Three years had passed since Ruhenheim. Since then, his life had gradually settled into something almost familiar and comfortable. Old friends and neighbors now offered overwhelming solicitude, and often he found himself with visitors, most eager to return favors once given by his hand. Over time, he felt his soul beginning to heal, finding contentment in routine and company. 

But time didn’t stop the habitual panic that manifested after years of hiding. He knew better by now. Forethought had saved his life before. Reaching into the bedside drawer, he carefully tucked a pistol out of sight, and pulled a dressing down over freezing shoulders, before scuffling down the stairs to unlock the door. 

Terror soon gripped the doctor’s heart as he stumbled back into the doorframe of his apartment. His lungs told him to breathe, but his stomach felt like it was on the floor. What stared back at him with hushed intensity was nothing short of a monster. Exactly who he had never expected, perfect features devoid of any telling expression. The world felt like it was falling down. Tenma steadily gripped the concealed weapon, ready to defend himself if need be. 

Before he had time to react, the boy stepped forward, breathed something of a chuckle, and collapsed onto the snow covered steps.


End file.
